Seven Stories: 1971
by Vaudevillain
Summary: Seven stories for seven sins. Concerns the Marauders set between 1971 and 1977.


_Seven Stories: 1971-1977_

_Acdeia_

_(Sloth)_

Two boys and a summer's day. The copper sun is blocked by hanging willow limbs; leafy things make shade under rough back. It is too warm to move, too warm to kiss, too warm to think. Billowing heat, like a hellwind; like a plague (symptoms: sweaty brows, palms, and lips); like a disease crawling, poisoning their minds with its sickly sweet warmth.

Sirius says, "dunno, what do you wanna do?"

Remus says, "well, we could –" But Sirius interrupts with "no, we're not reading books," and Remus shrugs and frowns, but his anger evaporates when Sirius' hand finds his.

He complains because he has to, it's required: "Your hand is sweaty, Sirius."

Sirius grins and says, "My everything is sweaty."

Remus makes a sour face. He says nothing, but he doesn't let go of Sirius' hand. Sirius nuzzles closer and Remus doesn't move despite the fact that clear blossoms of sweat are appearing.

Sirius says: "well, what do you wanna do?"

Remus says: "well, we could, you know…" and Sirius, grinning, understands what he means this time.

_Ira_

_(Wrath)_

"Come _on_ James, you weren't even dating her then!" Sirius yells from across the dormitory.

"You _knew_ I liked her! You knew!" James replies, half-naked, his fists raised menacingly, sinuous arm muscles twitching and bulging, tendons curling and crawling in his wrists.

"It was third year! You didn't like her then!"

"I did and you know it!" James is red; a sick kind of off-colour red; a dangerous, frightening red filled with the deepest hate.

"I said I'm sorry James – you _know_ I'm sorry; but it was three years ago!"

The punch comes like lightning. The crack of bone on bone is like thunder. James hits Sirius in the jaw, and scatters across his face and sends him spinning and howling to the ground. Sirius' lips are ripe with blood, the colours of burst cherries.

It's no more than a moment before James is on Sirius. His fists are flailing, smashing against angled ribs and hard bone. Punches dissolve into desperate grappling. Soon into the furious striking of lip against lip; the frenzied touch of tongues; frantic hands grabbing and holding and sliding over pale white flesh until an end.

_Gula_

_(Gluttony)_

"Dinner was lovely, Mrs. Pettigrew," Sirius says charmingly.

"Delicious," James agrees.

"Thanks, mum," Peter says meekly.

It's the summer after third year, and this is the first time Sirius or James have been to Peter's house. Peter asked his parents especially if he could have his friends over for dinner and a sleepover. Mrs. Pettigrew was so pleased, so happy for her son; she said yes immediately and baked a full three-course dinner, even if they couldn't quite afford it.

"There's still treacle, boys," Mrs. Pettigrew says. Her smile is wide, and warm. She wears no make-up, and has a round, pudgy face like her son's. She is Mother, through and through.

The boys eat.

They're upstairs; three snug-tight in Peter's single bed, three peas in a pod; three amiable, happy bodies close together.

"That treacle was _amazing_," Sirius says for what seems like the hundredth time. James, reaching over Peter, gives Sirius a friendly punch and says, "Shut up, already."

Peter doesn't mind getting punched or kicked when Sirius and James turn over and over, chatting and laughing and roughhousing when they please. He doesn't mind James's cold feet, or Sirius' legs curling with his. He doesn't mind when Sirius finally falls asleep, bundling tight against Peter's side, giving the occasional scratchy snore. He even enjoys it when James nods off, his hand resting on Peter's thigh, lips pressed passively against Peter's shoulder.

But Peter likes it best when they wake up; all at the same time, three warm, sleepy bodies nothing but a tangle of limbs and happiness.

_Invidia_

_(Envy)_

He watches them from across the room: kissing, touching, loving glances; significant in their silence. They sit on the couch, they hold hands in class, they lie in the tall grass in the summer, and huddle by the fire in the winter. He can hear them fuck – loud and raucous and reeking of love.

He burns, but only inside – a private fire built on personal defeats, ruthless infatuation, and desperate lust. When he's awake, he sees Him. When he sleeps, he dreams about Him.

But on the outside he smiles. When James and Lily catch his eye, he smiles – big, so you can see his teeth and gums. He feels like his lips are going to break.

At night, when Sirius, Remus, and James are fast asleep, and Peter is kept awake with thoughts of his best friend, he'll snake one guilty hand down the front of his pyjamas and stroke himself to hardness. He'll close his eyes, lick the palm of his hand with a culpable tongue, and rub himself, twisting and pulling and gasping with pleasure. James' face glides through his thoughts, sliding among the slipstream of his mind, glowing and bright – and then he comes, and goes to sleep feeling worse than he did before.

_Superbia_

_(Vanity)_

"Do you think I'm getting fat?" Sirius asks, standing in front of the mirror, naked, dark, and beautiful.

"You're not getting fat," Remus replies from the bed. He has the covers pulled up because he is cold. He watches Sirius with bright eyes and wonders why Sirius isn't cold, too.

"You think so?" Sirius stands in profile, rubbing two strong hands over his stomach. "I don't know. I think I've got a bit of pudge." He pinches his sides to prove it.

"Sirius," James says, from beside Remus, "you're not getting fat. You – you're unfat. You're anti-fat. Fat runs from you like girls run from Remus –"

"I resent that – !" Remus says, pulling the covers up to his chin.

"It's true, Moony," Sirius says, turning around and looking over his shoulder to the full-length mirror. "But you really don't think I'm getting –"

"If you got any skinnier, you simply wouldn't exist," Remus says, his voice full of mirth. James, taking advantage of Sirius' absence, slides in against Remus side, one cunning hand crawling between the other boy's naked thighs. Remus gasps and pinks and smiles.

"Yes, well," Sirius says, running a hand swiftly through his hair and admiring his front again, "but I'm not nearly as skinny as James."

"What – you want to look like a rake?" James asks in a fit of uncharacteristic self-deprecation, but as it's for Sirius' good, he says it and doesn't even mind.

"Oh, I guess not." Sirius whips around cheerfully. His eyes are filled with dusk and starlight, and his lips are as dark as plums. His body, from muscled arms to pale body to toned legs are covered in dashes and scrapes of shadow. His limbs are taut, and suddenly he leaps onto the four-poster bed, landing haphazardly between Remus and James. He manages to wrench the blanket from James, and crawls in between their naked forms, snuggling eagerly.

"Augh – you're cold Sirius!" James cries out, edging away as best he can without falling out of bed.

"Then warm me up," Sirius says, his voice dripping into a dulcet baritone. Sirius grins, and James gives Remus a withering look. Remus blushes again; he's not used to _this_, this free, easy, togetherness, and it still makes him blush when he sees James naked, or when Sirius bites his lip as he comes. But, when Sirius reaches over and guides Remus' hand to James' cheek and incites then to kiss, or when James begins to nibble on his ear when Sirius occupies his lips; he feels good, and wouldn't change it for all the gold in the world.

So they warm Sirius up, and their hands meet when they do.

_Avaritia _

_(Greed)_

Sirius bites his lower lip in thought, then says: "Well, I don't see why you could just _tell_ them you're a werewolf –"

"D-damnit, Sirius, you just don't understand!" Remus says angrily, a flush creeping over his cheeks. "I _can't_ tell them, don't you get it? They'll – they'll kill me. Will you just – just drop it, okay? Just drop it."

"But it's _you!_ Even if you are a werewolf, it's not like you're dangerous – you… you're _Remus!_"

"Damnit, just drop it! You don't understand Sirius. You _can't_ understand." Remus slams his book closed, gets up and walks up the dormitory stairs, leaving Sirius in angry silence. Sirius slams his fist on the armchair and glares into the fire, willing back hot tears. That night he sleeps on the common room couch.

A week passes, and the moon is full.

"Padfoot?" James whispers. They're outside, naked, cold, and wet with dew. The moon is still concealed and Remus is off some distance, not yet transformed. James, Peter, and Sirius are huddled close together behind a scraggly shrub, waiting for the moment when they can transform into animals and have their fun.

The moon creeps from behind the trees and the transformation begins.

"Okay. Now," Sirius says. All too suddenly he is a dog, black and exuberant and brimming with life. James melts and moulds and emerges a stag, and Peter shrinks and slides into the shape of a rat. They come out bounding, and meet their former-Remus, now a hulking, growling beast.

The time is a blur of caught mice, thrashes of blood, tumbling and scrabbling and biting and absolute freedom. Padfoot and Prongs thunder and trample along with Moony – Wormtail is clinging tightly to Padfoot's fur – through the dark forest, taking leaps at rabbits and badgers, making meals of anything they can find. It's damp and muddy and leaves cling to filthy fur. There's a stink of blood and wet and death, but it appeals to the animals, and the forgotten forms of boys don't even smell it.

They rest for a while. Moony has just caught a rabbit and devoured it quickly. He is slow and prowling now, making his way along the open Hogwarts' boundaries, slinking and skulking and behaving startlingly like a curious pup. He looks almost happy.

But Padfoot is not happy. His mind is cloudy and bothered with Sirius' thoughts, not all abandoned under his canine guise. A storm is brewing in his being, and Padfoot cannot grasp it. It troubles him as they leap – and the freedom of the flight has left him wanton and irritated. Soon his mind is not dog at all, but troubled boy – and suddenly, like violent magic, he is boy again – pale, naked, sweating, and angry. He gets to his feet and starts over to where the werewolf is lurking in the grass. He is fuelled, and no amount of physical danger will stop him – in fact, it's what he wants…

"Remus!" Sirius bellows. Moony twists around, toxic yellow eyes locking onto Sirius' near and naked form. Moony howls in reply, and there is blood on his voice.

Prongs is in a panic. In a moment he is James, naked and terrified, sprinting over to Sirius, screaming: "Sirius! Get away from him!"

Sirius pays no attention. "Remus, damn you, come here!" There are cold, wet tears in his eyes. "Come here, you bastard! _Bite me!_ Come on! Bite me! You say I don't understand – make me understand! I want to understand, damnit!" His cheeks are damp, and all he can see is a sad, wet blur. "Make me understand, you bastard! I want to know what it feels like – I want it, I need to understand you! Damn you – you fucker, _bite me!_"

James grabs Sirius around and pulls him to the ground. Moony bounds towards them, and James transforms fluidly into a great, angry stag. Moony runs himself onto his strong antlers, and Prongs keeps him at bay until Moony leaps off, growling and angry and yelping into the forest.

Prongs becomes James, who falls to Sirius side, slapping and punching and grappling his best friend in a furious hug. "You idiot! What the hell do you think you're doing!" James is crying with the fear of it all, the adrenaline pumping through his veins like a poison. "What the fuck was that?"

Sirius is crying and James suddenly realises he's never seen Sirius cry before, never. "I want it," Sirius sobs, "I want to be a werewolf. I want it, damnit. I want it for him. I want to know what he feels. Damnit, James." James holds him, unsure of what to say.

Sirius visits Remus the next day in hospital.

"We have a good time?" Remus asks weakly.

Sirius is tempted to tell him what happened, but he doesn't. "Yeah," Sirius says enthusiastically, "yeah, we did." Then he kisses Remus' brow, and Remus is left wondering.

_Luxuria_

_(Lust)_

He thrusts inside; sturdy hands holding onto scarred white flesh. From across the bed he hears a laugh, then a groan, then a shuddered whisper of "oh, fuck." He thrusts again, and feels something snap and spark and fizzle in his chest, and his groin. He thrusts again, and hears his boy moan – half inhuman growl, half deepest pleasure. He thrusts again, and leans over his boy's trembling back; he almost loses his glasses, but manages to slide them gently up the bridge of his nose, and then he kisses Remus' shoulder gently; safely.

James feels close – close to coming, to screaming, to pure, ecstatic living. Then he feels another set of hands wrap around him, sliding over his stomach and onto his chest, pulling him tight. He feels Sirius' erection press into him, rubbing against the small of his back; grinding and pushing. Then Sirius lips find his neck, and his jaw and his cheek; teeth scrape against confident skin.

James slides out of his boy, and Remus manages to bite back a whimper. And then another pair of hands greet him from his side – trembling, resistant hands that find his stomach; uncertain fingers sliding down to grip him. Then Peter's lips find James' and they kiss; pure and long and full of a sweetness Sirius could never manage. Remus has crawled low, and his mouth is now occupied on Sirius, biting and nipping with too-sharp teeth at his hips and waist, causing Sirius' to buck and tingle, goose pimples crawling all along his arms and back. Then Remus engulfs Sirius' cock, wet tongue and lips sliding along it's length delicately, almost indulgently.

Sirius touches Peter's mouth, and kisses him, fitfully. Peter feels his heart soar, and his cock twitches as James' hands rub along its length. Peter feels a guilty something is boiling in the pit of his stomach, but it's quickly overwhelmed by feeling; by Sirius' hands fondling his shoulders and back, tongue slipping alongside his.

Remus has found James, found James' rosy cheeks and cherry-coloured lips. Remus has found James' body, hard with bone and muscle, sweating with effort, and flushed with heat. He finds a kiss, and then another, and then a deeper, longer one; filled with biting, drawn blood, and hot faces.

Peter is the first to come; James licking and sucking until Peter whimpers and moans, shuddering as he comes. James is next, undone by Sirius' nimble fingers and Remus' flighty tongue. Remus and Sirius are last, and James and Peter watch, sweaty and exhausted, as the two boys kiss with unknown tenderness and affection, until they fall to the bed, grinding and rubbing until they come together, sticky and wet between them.

The four lie together for hours, until they doze off. They're sweaty, and spent; so they don't go to their own beds. They divide as they wake, slipping from their lovers' grasps so as not to wake them during the night. When the last is awake; he is alone. When Remus is last; he reads a book until his friends wake up. When Sirius is alone, he shivers and trembles from cold. When James is alone, he bites his nails and wishes for the sun to rise. When Peter wakes up alone, he cries.

But sure enough, in the night they'll come together. Sometimes James will have Quidditch practice, and Sirius, Remus, and Peter will be together. Sometimes Remus needs to study, leaving Sirius and James to have with Peter. Sometimes Sirius is gone, and James, Remus, and Peter sleep together. But usually they're together; and that's always the best.


End file.
